


Until Our Outer Shell Falls Off

by MatchaMochi



Series: Lance Dish Time [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ive been hearing symphonies...., M/M, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), ballet dancer!Lance, but he also used to be a loanshark so, conductor!curtis, doctor!Adam, fools just kiss lah, gangster!lance, its equivalent exchange, kind of, lance has tattoos!, shiro is dead in this im sorry, theres another story in this, violent fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: There’s a new imp joining their group; they picked him off the streets scrabbling behind one of their restaurants searching for any scrap of food he could find. All he has left are skin and bones, his hair is short as if someone chopped off half of it and just gave up. His eyes though, they’re sharp, focused, and wild in a way a snake would be before it strikes./////(Adam has to learn how to get out of his own way-)
Relationships: Adam/Lance (Voltron), Curtis/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Lance Dish Time [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675384
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> yepp there are two chaps cuz the next one is gonna be a curtis/lance one X) I've been meaning to write gangster lance for a while now,,,, and I really like making my own adam ;) (he's my bb now)

This is how they end:

The overwhelming heat hanging in the air, the stench of iron, the sticky wetness of red at his arms. He coughs more of it out, trying not to choke. His voice is hoarse, but he tries to call Lance out anyway. He tries to get up from the dirty ground, but his arms shake from the movement alone.

“K-kid- _fuck-_ ” he tries again but even through the sand and dust, he could see the broken, bloodied outline, gasping for breath. He claws at the earth, tries to drag his body to Lance even when the searing pain hits him again and again, even when his nails break, even when he could hear the sirens in the distance.

Adam reaches him finally, breathes in, breathes out, chokes a little. Takes in the tattoos running all over Lance’s torso, the glazed look in his eyes, the gaping wound at his side. His breathing is shallow, but so is Lance. His hands are trembling when he strokes Lances cheek, his head lands heavily on Lance's heaving chest.

“You fucking _idiot-_ ”

-

-

-

There’s a new imp joining their group; they picked him off the streets scrabbling behind one of their restaurants searching for any scrap of food he could find. All he has left are skin and bones, his hair is short as if someone chopped off half of it and just gave up. His eyes though, they’re sharp, focused, and wild in a way a snake would be before it strikes.

Dark blue in a way he thinks would be dangerous in a world where anything beautiful could be snatched away in a heartbeat.

Lance is quick, he throws rocks and even the stray knife with a precision that leaves one of their men choking in his own blood on the ground. It wasn’t that hard to catch him when he tries to run off again but it’s a surprise to Adam when after they dumped him in front of the boss, he…. spits at his feet.

Adams actually surprised he’s alive at all.

“ _After this, your body, your mind, your whole fucking being belongs to us- do you understand Lance?_ ”

The silence is interrupted by a loud, hacking laugh. Lance grins, blood leaking from his split lip,

“ _So you want me to sell some fat bags and beat people up?_ ” he snorts, “ _And what do I get huh? I have no family, you have nothing on me-_ ”

Turns out, he gets shelter, food, and money. It’s a short story after that, he’s in hook, line, and sinker and he’ll _never_ be able to get out. Adam of all people would know most about that.

-

Adam has a set of spiked brass knuckles tucked in one of the drawers in his clinic. It’s a warning more than anything else, he may be their resident doctor, but he could still defend himself if he has to.

The first time Lance finds it he crows in delight, and tries to put it on even when his fingers are thick with the bandages Adam had wrapped him in.

“Hey, hey, what did I say about moving around too much? Are you still twelve? _Sit down Lance,_ ”

Lance had just gone back from a rowdy fight with a rival gang, Adam had to stitch a long gash at the back of his head so he gave up trying to trim his hair down and just gave Lance an undercut. He also has bruises on his arms and legs, a black eye, and some broken fingers. All in all, it wasn’t that bad really.

He sighs, sets the glasses on his nose straight before trying to clean out the blood from Lance's head again.

“Yeah, yeah, just so you know, I’m turning nineteen soon so fuck you-”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man! And I- I’ve heard of you, you know? These bad boys?” he gestures at the brass knuckles, “It’s when you were the _‘Demon in Wright lane’_ right?”

Adam groans as Lance continues, “ _Pay your dues or the demon will pay it for you_ , right?”

He sighs, “Do they really say that?”

Lance laughs, making Adam flick his ears when the bandage he tries to wrap around his head go loose, “I’ve seen you once, I think. I thought you were a tourist until you broke a man’s jaw down the curb.”

Adam tightens the dressing, just so he could see Lance wince. He hums, “The only tattoo I had was the golden bull at my back,” their symbol, even Lance had one of them somewhere, “I did what I did because I had to. It didn’t matter in the end. My husband still died and I’m still _here,_ ” he tightens the dressing again but Lance is quiet this time.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs, Adam is a little careful now, gentle as he checks his other bruises, “He was dying anyway, a sickness his medical expenses couldn't cover. So, that's how I got in.”

Lance is looking out the window, the sun brings to light the dust around their beaten-down city. Adam hadn’t notice he was running his hands through Lance's soft brown hair. He snatches it away, and clears his throat, “Debts are harder to run away from though, and you, kid, are going to spend your whole life trying to pay it back.”

Lance hums and doesn’t even wince when Adam puts antiseptic on some of his cuts.

“They call me the noisy imp actually, what do you think?”

“Suits you.”

“ _Hey-_ ”

-

It doesn’t surprise him how quickly Lance rose up the ranks; when he’s not blabbering about everything and nothing at once, he gets the job done and he doesn’t linger. He draws a line on children, the weak, and the elderly though. Everyone sees it as a weakness, but Adam only sees strength running down his muscled arms and toned back.

Lance has a bat that gets bent once every two weeks, every time he goes out for the more difficult jobs, and knives stashed in wherever he takes it out from, (it’s a mystery really). He’s fond of tattoos and its obvious by the black vines he has curling at his biceps, the blue fire bursting at his legs. And he’s fond of the clinic too, Adam thinks, since he’s always been dropping by whenever he gets the chance to.

Months pass by and it seems like he comes here every day if he could.

Adam patches him up after his fights but he’s at a loss when he comes in with his smirk, his smelly takeout, and cold beers. He’s threatened to throw Lance out once or twice but had always caved in after Lance pulls one of his elaborate pity stories.

‘ _I can’t sleep and your place always has a nice breeze,_ ’

‘ _I need to escape from the boss right now Adam, and you know this place is neutral territory!_ ’

‘ _It’s nice here. With you. Reminds me of my house miles from here._ ’

That last one is whispered low, on a quiet afternoon. Lance was lying down on one of his couches, back facing him. Adam finds himself having the urge to pull Lance to him, so he could see his face. To feel the taut strength and dark skin under his. But Lance is not his, however much Adam wants him. And maybe that’s better.

“How did you end up here?”

“My family died in a car crash and I was the only orphan. The last foster home I was in beat me up every day, so I ran away. Then, this.”

This. Wasn’t that just peachy? More proof that he really shouldn’t chase this yearning for Lance he has grown into, Lance deserves someone that could chase all of this away, not remind him of it.

“Do you ever regret it?”

Lance does turn to him now, head pillowed on his arms, his smile making his face so much softer.

“Never.”

-

Lance does try to kiss him this one time. He pushes Adam back on his office chair and presses his mouth on him. Adam is aware of several things at once; the heat coming off in waves bringing Lance's unique scent to him, making him feel overwhelmed, the peek of a nipple from Lance's white undershirt, the petal-soft touch of his lips, his hands, a strong grip on his thighs.

The fact that he’s being kissed by the object of his affection after months of daydreaming about blue eyes and loud laughter.

But, no. There’s a reason he hasn’t pulled Lance to him, tasted the sweat on his skin, tracing the tantalizing trails of his tattoo with his teeth. He finds it hard to remember when Lance pushes into him, sliding his tongue between their lips. And he strains to recall when they kiss and kiss and he feels Lances weight on his lap, hand cupping the burgeoning hardness at his trousers-

He gasps and it's only then he pushes Lance off with a hand on his shoulder, spit stringing away when he does so, he blinks when Lance licks it off his lips absentmindedly.

“I-” they both say.

Adam shakes his head first, frowning. His mind a churning mess of conflicting feelings and _want,_

 _“_ I’m sorry. _”_ He says, and he doesn’t look at Lance, as he pushes him away again.

There’s a breath of silence, before Lance says, soft and sad,

“I understand.”

After he leaves, it felt like he left with a part of Adam too. Adam sighs, takes off his glasses, and pinches the bridge of his nose. He stares at the photo frame on his table, a memory from another time.

“Oh Takashi,” he sighs, “I made the better choice right?”

The smiling figure does not say anything, but Adam knows what he’d say. Wasn’t it what he’d done all his life? To follow his heart.

-

He forgets sometimes, how violent Lance could be when he fights.

But all of this was his fault really, a scorned enemy from another time, a quiet alley where he’d get to the grocery store quicker, the silent sound of footsteps behind him. He’s not that surprised by the first punch, but he grunts when the third attacker drops down suddenly and kicks his knees. His _bad_ knee. It was apparent then, that this wasn’t just some rando trying to mug him.

He’s proud to say that he put up a good fight before they brought him down. Five maimed had to count for something right? But it really doesn’t, when his hands get stepped on, his knee gets kicked _again,_ and he blacks out with a final _‘Thwack!’_ at the back of his head.

The rest is disorienting, hard to piece together when his vision and mind are all just random blurring motions happening around him. He’s on the ground, his hands are bleeding because he vaguely remembers one of them bringing a knife to the fight and he tried to block it with his arm.

There are shouts in the air, another piercing scream, a wet, squelching sound. It smells like, dirt, blood, and sweat. Adam groans and tries to open his eyes. What he sees makes him gasp. Another thing he hasn’t seen; Lance in action.

And he moves like he’s dancing, fluid and quick. He swings his bat but he throws his knives too. And- and there’s just _too many of them and Adam can’t fucking move fuck-_

Someone kicks his bat away after they landed a kick at Lance's side, Lance only cackles in reply before he brings out a set of spiked knuckle brass and mauling his attacker. It’s like he’s watching this brutal monster beating the shit out of the mob of people storming on him. He’s crazed, grinning, bloody and dangerous. Whenever any of them gets close to Adam they get their face ripped off, or their arms broken.

But Adam doesn’t miss the damage Lance is taking either, he has cuts all over his torso, the stray punch on his face is swelling up to cover his right eye, then, _then,_ the last of them manages to swipe deep at Lances flank- the spray of crimson is nothing compared to the pain he feels after Lance stabs the last man and collapses to the ground.

He screams in his head, grits his teeth trying to hold the pain in, cutting in his heart. He crawls to Lance and he begs to the god he never believed in, begs to his dead husband fading light, to _anyone_ , to save Lance.

It can’t end like this, he won’t let it.

Adam sobs on Lance’s gasping breath and he holds on tight.

He hadn’t even had the chance to tell Lance ‘ _I love you,_ ’ yet.

-

It’s a miracle more than anything else when he wakes up in the hospital. Adam has multiple fractures at his arm, he gets stuck wearing knee braces but he’s lucky he could walk really. It’s several days before they let him visit Lance who’s on the other side of the ward.

They say he’s lucky to even be alive. Adam can’t stop his hands from shaking when he takes Lance's in his, kisses it softly. Cries again. He finally says it to Lance but Lance isn’t awake to hear it.

-

Lance wakes up slowly, whimpering from the pain, and rasping out for water. Adam tries not to let anything show but the way he grips his arm makes Lance smile through the bandages covering his face. He squeezes Adams hand and he says,

“ _I never belonged to them, don’t you get it old man? I saw you and I remembered you because you were the only one who saw me for what I was; something worth saving._ ” His eyes are dark blue and sharp, trained on Adam, like a snake ready to strike, “ _After I joined, you were someone I knew would never leave me. I never belonged to them, but I wanted to belong to you, Adam, because y-you make me happy, and safe and everything I never thought I’ll have- I-_ ”

Adam kisses him, careful and soft and says, by stroking his hair, by cupping his cheeks, by the warmth enveloping them, in this godforsaken dirty city,

‘ _I know._ ’ And, ‘ _I love you too._ ’

- _fin-_


	2. Shiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s saying something but he can’t quite register with the flashing blue lights of the car behind her, with his boyfriend's cheerful goodbye not two hours ago when he told Curtis he was going out for more food, with his pounding heart and shaking hands.
> 
> But, no. It can’t be true.
> 
> Lance was just here-
> 
> //
> 
> (Curtis learns that some sounds are harder to find, when it suddenly dies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeapppp I overheard clean bandits Symphony in the car and it just gave me all the feels again so here is this...... :') (lookin at the mv may help set the mood a bit ;) )

The silence starts, the minute he hears the deafening sound of sirens outside his house. It’s a police officer, the ones that he sees walking around the street cones, yellow neon stripes making his eye hurt. Her eyes are kind though, tired too, and….sad. She’s saying something but he can’t quite register with the flashing blue lights of the car behind her, with his boyfriend's cheerful goodbye not two hours ago when he told Curtis he was going out for more food, with his pounding heart and shaking hands.

But, no. It can’t be true.

Lance was just _here-_

-

The heater hasn’t really been working well since autumn but he thinks, he can still wait a little longer, before winter eventually sets in. He’s in their living room again, staring out as the sun rises, light spilling on his soft pillows, but he doesn’t really feel any heat.

He’s still wearing the t-shirt from yesterday. He doesn’t know if he’d slept. There are these dark blurry blobs at the edges of his vision, but if he blinks and stares outside it disappears so he figured it wasn’t that bad.

He shivers, curling into himself. ‘ _Oh Curtis,_ ’ he hears them in his head, condolences he would have given himself if it were to have happened to someone else. He hated it. Hated that he did. He was never the kind to hate anyone he’s never met, he was gentle and considerate. Nothing was for him to have, someone else should have it before him.

He had wondered sometimes; if he’d stood out more would he have met Lance sooner? He only wanted to have something that was him to keep, to cherish. Maybe that was why he’d been so attracted to that warm light, that bright smile.

A cold draft settles in the room. His teeth chatter but he tightens his jaw to make it stop. His fingers are numb though, and slightly trembling.

Lance had been so much more than that; the graceful arch of his back, the sinewy of muscles, his long arms thrown up like wings ready for flight. A ballet dancer that had been using the dance studio next to his apartment. They had met by chance but had fallen by their own certainty.

Curtis closes his eyes. The sunlight was beginning to hurt him.

The doorbell rings suddenly in the hollow quietness of the room. Veronica’s voice calls out to him, another ringing bell. He sighs before getting off the sofa. Living seems much more tiring when he really wants it to stop for a while.

-

It was an accident, they said. It was night, and the driver had been working since morning and there was a little boy running into the road but suddenly there wasn’t. There was just Lance.

Veronica had been checking on Curtis twice a week to see how he’s been doing. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop.

-

The silence is a rising crescendo that reaches its peak as he sobs and cries for something he knows is hopeless. It’s something unfeeling that leaves him shivering and freezing down to his bones because it has been _two years_ and he still couldn’t help hoping for _warmth._

Its- its, it's his unsteady grip on his baton, as it rises and descends. Maybe, if he remembers all that they’ve had, he could finally hear it.

-

The sound of birds singing outside their window.

He remembers a sleep-warm morning, tucked together, naked, legs tangled. Lance’s back laid on his front, Curtis covering Lance’s arms with his as he murmurs a lesson on being a music conductor at Lance’s ear.

Lance laughs at him when he exaggerates their movements, Curtis blows a raspberry at his nape in retaliation. The shriek of laughter after is quietened by the sweet kiss he gives Lance. And he feels like he could breathe him in like this, wishes they didn’t have to leave.

-

A classical melody set in the calming atmosphere of Lance’s routine, his stumble when he spots Curtis leaning at the door of the studio, the beaming smile when Curtis cups the side of his face, peppers kisses on his eyes and nose.

He mimics waving his arm around as if he was in one of his grand performances, conducting the graceful spins and turns of Lance’s dance. Lance gets bored soon though, changes the song into the radio, playing the latest love songs that make Lance lick his lips and wink at him, ridiculously suggestive.

He dances to hip hop, chokes out a hacking laugh when Curtis tries to moonwalk, and it's silly and dumb and everything he’d always wanted.

It’s so _loud-_

But-

He wants to drown in it forever.

-

How does a feeling so strong make its own sound? Curtis isn’t sure. Perhaps anger is this grating noise, a chainsaw on stones, happiness are bells, twinkling in perfect melody, and grief is this muted kind of screaming, and whenever he’s reminded of Lance it increases in volume. Love is an onomatopoeia he thinks is an amalgamation of all of these, and he cradles it close.

This one, the sound of the cool breeze, the rustling of leaves, their soft voices, making little clouds in the cold air. Lance loves to cuddle and he loves to tuck him in his arms so they’d always go out and run out to the park in autumn, for a picnic, or just to walk. They’ll stay until sunset, hands laced together, so close he’d marvel at the way Lance’s eyes would change its color when the day turns to night. Incandescent, iridescent.

The music builds and builds, layered, placed, into a whole new song that he wishes would reach Lance. He remembers each different echo as if it was just yesterday.

-

The crackling sound of fire, as they sip hot chocolate together, as the Christmas lights illuminate their living room.

The steady _‘tap tap’_ from the sink in their toilet, as he holds Lance into his chest after a bad day at the studio, swaying slightly from a quiet tune that isn’t there. Their heartbeats in synch, sad but reassuring.

The soft singing from Lance when he tries to imitate the opera recording from his laptop, giggling together as his voice broke.

Lance calling him from outside, telling him to hurry up.

Lance as he whispers his wishes and wants to him, his affection and how grateful he was, to have met Curtis.

Lance’s voice, always with Curtis, even when he isn’t there.

The silence stretches on, as another day goes by without his beautiful melody.

-

Veronica still visits him, and Curtis doesn’t want to admit it but she’s one of the reasons he still goes out of his house. His hands shakes when he holds the baton, the person reflected in his bathroom mirror looks nothing like him.

He has a wary look in his eyes, like he does whenever anyone looks at him and Lance twice too many times in the store. He looks older too, like he aged ten years instead of two. The person he’s looking at looks like shit, but his hands are surprisingly steady when he reaches for the shaver.

‘ _Good morning handsome, do you miss me?_ ’

‘ _You had always been too kind, sometimes I wonder if you’re being too cruel to yourself,_ ’

‘ _It’s never quiet, with you. Do you hear that? It’s love._ ’

Stray messages thrown in their conversations whenever it had felt safe for them. Words that were incredibly sappy but that holds true in their hearts.

Curtis raises his baton and does not tremble.

-

-

-

His orchestra is an unstoppable wave that crashes again and again as he waves his arms in the air, a conductor of the storms itself. The music reaches its crescendo and he gasps with it, shocked to find tears trailing down, wet on his cheeks.

He hears Lance singing it with him, in the sweat on his back, the blinding lights, the resounding applause. He only sees Lance though, right there. Staring at him with one of his soft smiles, eyes brimming with tears. Had it finally reached him?

That day, he gets a call from Veronica.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Curtis sprints through the hospital corridors, his heart a loud drum banging out of his chest.

‘ _H-he’s awake- god Curtis I can’t believe it I- I’ve- We’ve been hoping for so long- Curtis-_ ’

He dashes into the room and his knees shake as he hears it.

‘ _Curtis? A-are you alright?_ ’

Lance’s voice is weak and hoarse, but Curtis holds on to it like it’s the sweetest sound he'd ever heard,

‘ _I’ve missed you so much, my love._ ’

- _fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is dying on my watchhh ahaha, ahem, 
> 
> tbh I’ve sometimes imagined how it would be, if they had made lance and curtis properly meet. If it was just enough, that shiro was an independent gay man with his own values and dreams, if they hadn’t killed off adam at all and maybe made them make up or stayed as friends, if they showed a scene with curtis talking to lance, if they had married and had a life together, happy and in love. I dunno, just imagining hehe also, I should really call this piece ‘Lance ends up in the hospital too much’ lol
> 
> next......kurance?!?!
> 
> Thnks for reading!
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from [this](https://youtu.be/oUevY6uH4Qg?list=FLnkizDesitFH4AEl7w5InZw) and I was listening to NCT U's Baby Dont Stop non stop while writing this hsgsghs tell me what you think!
> 
> Thnks for reading!
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!


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